Chaotic, charming and full of big ideas, comedian Johnny Vegas is the very personification of ADHD
The problem with Do You Have ADHD? was simply this: one programme wasn't enough to contain the sheer range of what is currently known as ADHD. Between the child psychiatrist and the online influencers it was jumping around and, perhaps predictably, kind of disjointed.
We followed a lovely doctor, Clare Bailey Mosley – widow of the telly and radio health expert, Dr Michael Mosley – as she revealed all the classic symptoms of ADHD. Her school reports said she should pay more attention, her late husband's complaints about her timekeeping, the way she had completely forgotten about a saucepan of boiling rice in a friend's kitchen. Although burning rice could happen to anyone?
We had been sitting in front of our televisions going: 'Yeah, Clare definitely has it'. But it turned out that Clare just hadn't suffered enough to be diagnosed with ADHD. Part of the diagnostic process is called 'impairment', apparently. As in, how much has having the symptoms of ADHD impaired your life? How much has it disadvantaged you? Did you have the potential to be a tech bro, for example, but ended up living in a bin?
That doesn't sound very scientific to me. If cancer hasn't had a negative impact on your life – so far – does that then mean you don't have cancer? If you have coronary heart disease but are managing fine, does that mean you don't have coronary heart disease?
The thing is, Clare wasn't living in a bin, but in a very nice house and wearing a lovely green suit. She has had a career in medicine, for God's sake. It was at this point that everyone who suspects that they may have ADHD – and also their parents – was leaning towards the TV shouting: 'How did Clare manage to have such a successful life?' But the programme never provided this vital information. Clare walked out of the assessment room in her lovely green suit and we were none the wiser.
The following night on Johnny Vegas: Art, ADHD & Me, we meet Vegas's personal assistant, Bev. Bev knows a thing or two about ADHD because she's living with it at close quarters. Vegas, with his charm and his chaos and his big ideas, seems to be, as someone said here, the very personification of ADHD.
Bev could actually be that traditional figure, the comedian's wife. She laughs at all Johnny's jokes, jollies him along and generally takes care of all the tough stuff: bookings, phone calls, deadlines. In other words, she's his personal assistant. Johnny was just full of love for his hometown of St Helen's, where he wanted to create a public art project as a way of saying thank you to the population.
Vegas is a funny person. But here he was frequently emotional and often close to tears. His personal crisis looked like much more than ADHD. And the art looked terrible, Johnny seemed to get a lot of hugs from women, and to tell them he loved them. Needy doesn't begin to cover it, and this is a brilliant man.
The most telling scene came when Johnny met three men he went to art college with. These guys actually were artists: thin, hard-headed and terrifyingly practical. They didn't give much for Johnny's chances of finishing the public art project – or indeed of starting it.
With three months to go before his first one-man exhibition, Johnny went out and bought a dodgem car. When he and Bev went out to look for possible sites for the public art project, it was Bev who took the photos. There didn't seem to be much work going on – at least work by Johnny.
'I'm like God, and I've just come up with the tadpole and I'm knackered,' he said.
If he can come out with lines like this you wonder why he's bothering with public art projects. But backstage at a comedy gig, Johnny said: 'I'm not funny, I just crave acceptance.'
Shortly after that Bev had to ring everybody to tell them that Johnny was taking a year off.
In the second programme, Johnny had his new diagnosis of ADHD. Bev had known he had it all along. The new public art project is an iron frame, which looks like a giant Dalek, holding 72 tiles, painted by Johnny, showing aspects of his beloved St Helens.
But only 20 of the 72 tiles actually fit into the Dalek frame. Johnny has been trimming tiles for 48 hours. 'Measure once, cut nine times, that's what I say,' he said.
Then the Dalek frame is too big to get out of the workshop.
It all ended in happy tears.
'Thank God it's over,' said Bev.
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Irish Independent
2 days ago
- Irish Independent
Chaotic, charming and full of big ideas, comedian Johnny Vegas is the very personification of ADHD
ADHD stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, and it could be present in about 5pc of the population. That's a lot of missed appointments, unfinished knitted jumpers and lost phones. And that's also why the diagnostic systems both here and in the UK are overwhelmed. The problem with Do You Have ADHD? was simply this: one programme wasn't enough to contain the sheer range of what is currently known as ADHD. Between the child psychiatrist and the online influencers it was jumping around and, perhaps predictably, kind of disjointed. We followed a lovely doctor, Clare Bailey Mosley – widow of the telly and radio health expert, Dr Michael Mosley – as she revealed all the classic symptoms of ADHD. Her school reports said she should pay more attention, her late husband's complaints about her timekeeping, the way she had completely forgotten about a saucepan of boiling rice in a friend's kitchen. Although burning rice could happen to anyone? We had been sitting in front of our televisions going: 'Yeah, Clare definitely has it'. But it turned out that Clare just hadn't suffered enough to be diagnosed with ADHD. Part of the diagnostic process is called 'impairment', apparently. As in, how much has having the symptoms of ADHD impaired your life? How much has it disadvantaged you? Did you have the potential to be a tech bro, for example, but ended up living in a bin? That doesn't sound very scientific to me. If cancer hasn't had a negative impact on your life – so far – does that then mean you don't have cancer? If you have coronary heart disease but are managing fine, does that mean you don't have coronary heart disease? The thing is, Clare wasn't living in a bin, but in a very nice house and wearing a lovely green suit. She has had a career in medicine, for God's sake. It was at this point that everyone who suspects that they may have ADHD – and also their parents – was leaning towards the TV shouting: 'How did Clare manage to have such a successful life?' But the programme never provided this vital information. Clare walked out of the assessment room in her lovely green suit and we were none the wiser. The following night on Johnny Vegas: Art, ADHD & Me, we meet Vegas's personal assistant, Bev. Bev knows a thing or two about ADHD because she's living with it at close quarters. Vegas, with his charm and his chaos and his big ideas, seems to be, as someone said here, the very personification of ADHD. Bev could actually be that traditional figure, the comedian's wife. She laughs at all Johnny's jokes, jollies him along and generally takes care of all the tough stuff: bookings, phone calls, deadlines. In other words, she's his personal assistant. Johnny was just full of love for his hometown of St Helen's, where he wanted to create a public art project as a way of saying thank you to the population. Vegas is a funny person. But here he was frequently emotional and often close to tears. His personal crisis looked like much more than ADHD. And the art looked terrible, Johnny seemed to get a lot of hugs from women, and to tell them he loved them. Needy doesn't begin to cover it, and this is a brilliant man. The most telling scene came when Johnny met three men he went to art college with. These guys actually were artists: thin, hard-headed and terrifyingly practical. They didn't give much for Johnny's chances of finishing the public art project – or indeed of starting it. With three months to go before his first one-man exhibition, Johnny went out and bought a dodgem car. When he and Bev went out to look for possible sites for the public art project, it was Bev who took the photos. There didn't seem to be much work going on – at least work by Johnny. 'I'm like God, and I've just come up with the tadpole and I'm knackered,' he said. If he can come out with lines like this you wonder why he's bothering with public art projects. But backstage at a comedy gig, Johnny said: 'I'm not funny, I just crave acceptance.' Shortly after that Bev had to ring everybody to tell them that Johnny was taking a year off. In the second programme, Johnny had his new diagnosis of ADHD. Bev had known he had it all along. The new public art project is an iron frame, which looks like a giant Dalek, holding 72 tiles, painted by Johnny, showing aspects of his beloved St Helens. But only 20 of the 72 tiles actually fit into the Dalek frame. Johnny has been trimming tiles for 48 hours. 'Measure once, cut nine times, that's what I say,' he said. Then the Dalek frame is too big to get out of the workshop. It all ended in happy tears. 'Thank God it's over,' said Bev.
Irish Times
4 days ago
- Irish Times
Do You Have ADHD? ‘It feels like there's always a swarm of bees in my brain'
There has been a surge in cases of attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD , with much of the awareness about the condition driven by influencers on TikTok and Instagram. But has incidence of ADHD truly increased, or are we simply more alert to the symptoms than we used to be? That question is considered, though never satisfactorily answered, by Dr Karan Rajan, a British surgeon, in his enjoyable Do You Have ADHD? (Channel 4, Tuesday, 8pm). Rajan doesn't pretend to be a definitive expert on the subject, and he's upfront that the documentary is an introduction rather than a deep dive. He goes out on the street to talk to people with ADHD about their experiences. 'My brain feels as if there are all these particles firing,' one of them, Ellie, says. 'It feels like there is always a swarm of bees in my brain trying to fight each other,' another, Milly, explains. There is also a guinea pig of sorts in Dr Clare Bailey Mosley, widow of Dr Michael Mosley (a relatively obscure figure in Ireland but a national treasure in Britain), who believes that both she and her late husband had undiagnosed ADHD. READ MORE She puts that theory to the test by going for a professional diagnosis; Rajan advises those in a similar situation to first complete an ADHD screening questionnaire devised by the World Health Organisation. He is at pains to point out that the questionnaire is not itself a diagnostic tool. Still, it could indicate whether it might be helpful to seek a professional assessment. That's sufficient for Bailey Mosley, who answers 'yes' to a question about having trouble wrapping up the final details of a project. 'I do kind of fade towards the end,' she says. Is a diagnosis recommended in every case? It depends, according to the ADHD researcher Val Harpin. For children, the answer is always yes: 'There are no downsides.' For adults, the question can be more nuanced. 'Older people have different responses. The biggest is relief,' she says – ''Yeah, that explains it'' – but 'sometimes it makes them feel resentful: 'My life could have been different if I'd known.'' Rajan acknowledges that there's an element of faddishness to some of the online conversation about ADHD. He points to TikTokers who diagnose 'T-rex arm' – which is to say holding your arms close to your body, with your wrists limp – as a trait. 'Be mindful,' he warns, 'of internet diagnosis.' That said, ADHD is not at all uncommon. It seems to affect about 5 per cent of people – more than epilepsy or autism, at 1 per cent each – according to Prof Stephen Scott. But experiencing symptoms doesn't mean you need professional assistance, as Bailey Mosley discovers. She goes for an assessment but 'falls' at the final hurdle after it's concluded that she doesn't experience any 'impairment' in her day-to-day life. She sounds relieved rather than disappointed – though others believe ADHD is, in the round, a benefit. A journalist with the Ladbible website says the condition has given him the ability to 'hyperfocus' at work. The point is taken up by the daredevil George King, who was jailed after scaling the Shard skyscraper in London. He says his ADHD played a huge part in his climb. 'When I have something that means something to me, all those [out of control] thoughts get compressed,' he says. 'The universe gets out of the way.'
Irish Times
5 days ago
- Irish Times
Down syndrome: ‘It teaches you to be a better person'
There was no apparent medical reason why Bernie and Crohan O'Kennedy could not conceive a baby naturally, so a long struggle to start a family was classed as 'unexplained infertility'. The couple, who live in Lissycasey, outside Ennis, Co Clare , were in their mid-30s when they married in 2019. After attending a private clinic for in vitro fertilisation (IVF) in 2022, they achieved pregnancy in the first round. 'It was kind of astonishing,' says Bernie O'Kennedy. 'I'd never had a positive pregnancy test. We couldn't really believe our luck after so much upset over the years.' Their daughter Pippa, 'a long-awaited miracle', arrived in July 2023. At that stage they already knew she was coming with one extra copy of chromosome 21 in her body cells, a condition known as Down syndrome. READ MORE Their doctor had noted a thickening of the nuchal fold at the back of the foetus's neck during a scan at 11 weeks in December 2022 and referred them to a foetal specialist for further investigation. A non-invasive Harmony test indicated a strong likelihood of their baby having Down syndrome. They had this confirmed through amniocentesis testing. As a first-time mother, O'Kennedy recalls, she wanted to know for sure what she was dealing with. She said: 'Then you are given options – 'if you don't want to proceed with this pregnancy, etc'. But that wasn't the case for my husband and I.' She recalls how the then master of the Rotunda hospital in Dublin, Prof Fergal Malone, was quoted that same December, during an interview with this newspaper , as saying that about 95 per cent of parents whose babies are diagnosed with Down syndrome at the hospital choose to terminate the pregnancy. As far as she and Crohan were concerned, while the diagnosis was undoubtedly life-changing, it was not life-threatening. But it was still a shock. 'You go through 'what did I do wrong?', particularly when you go down to the IVF route. You're so clean in your diet, you're so healthy and I guess the worst part was I had just lost my mum earlier that year. It was like layers of grief [kept] going.' When 'miracle baby' Pippa was born in July 2023 her parents already knew she was coming with one extra copy of chromosome 21 in her body cells, a condition known as Down syndrome Once she was back in the public maternity system and the couple had got their heads around the diagnosis and possible health complications, they believed they would just have to cope with whatever transpired. They were assigned a social worker and the pregnancy was closely monitored at the foetal unit in University Hospital Galway. 'The staff are just incredible,' she said. However, in other respects, 'it's a grim setting because everyone's there because there's something wrong with your child, the baby'. She experienced a mix of emotions throughout; tears some weeks but also delight at seeing the baby growing. She also had the onset of gestational diabetes to cope with. 'I always knew this baby was going to be strong,' she says. [ Down syndrome: 'Sarah regards herself as a businesswoman... she's certainly breaking the stereotype' Opens in new window ] The baby was due around the first anniversary of her mother's death from lung cancer. She said: 'It was literally like this weird gift of life; that she was going to bring a lot of joy to everybody.' Her mother, Mary Higgins – 'a phenomenal woman' – not only raised 10 children but was also a respected primary schoolteacher and principal in Drumlish, Co Longford. Bernie grew up in the neighbouring village of Gortletteragh, Co Leitrim, before the family moved to Drumlish. Their father, a farmer, died when Bernie was 18. 'She would always have fought with social justice for the kids that didn't have a lot or weren't deemed the brightest,' says O'Kennedy of her mother. 'She looked after the underdog.' Pippa arrived via a vacuum-assisted delivery on Friday, July 14th, 2023. 'I was hell-bent trying to attempt to breastfeed, even though we're told that Down syndrome babies probably don't breastfeed. But she did, she latched on straight away.' 'The kids didn't see any difference to Pippa. They just saw a little baby who's thriving and it was the most gorgeous experience for me and for her,' says Bernie O'Kennedy. Photograph: Eamon Ward Although Pippa had been assessed with a healthy Apgar score on delivery, that evening she was transferred to a neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) after becoming very sleepy. Express milk was fed to her via a nasal gastric tube and within two weeks she was home with her parents. After four months of combination feeding, although predominantly breastfeeding, 'we really kind of mastered it', says O'Kennedy, clearly glad she had persevered with breastfeeding against the odds. That September she enrolled in the Barnardos-run Roots of Empathy. This involves a parent bringing their baby into a primary school every three weeks over the school year, where the children can observe the baby's development and are invited to talk about the baby's feelings. The initiative has been shown to reduce levels of aggression among children. 'The kids didn't see any difference to her. They just saw a little baby who's thriving and it was the most gorgeous experience for me and for her,' says O'Kennedy. From six months, Pippa has been able to have speech and language therapy, thanks to the support of the Clare branch of Down Syndrome Ireland (DSI). O'Kennedy had contacted them about halfway through the pregnancy. The 'gorgeous, heart-warming' response was just the reassurance they needed. Since Pippa was born, the couple have been involved in fundraising for DSI Clare, run by fellow parents of children with Down syndrome. Crohan O'Kennedy ran the Dublin city marathon last year and will be out shaking buckets at the annual Tour de Munster ( Now in its 25th year, the four-day charity cycle starts on August 7th and takes a 600km route through the province. Funds will be raised and awareness spread for DSI's branches in Munster. Pippa, having just celebrated her second birthday, is now a 'powerhouse' of a toddler, says her mother. 'She's so determined, she's already walking now. She wants to be in everything.' Crohan and Bernie O'Kennedy with their daughter Pippa, who is due to become a big sister soon. Photograph: Eamon Ward When Pippa's diagnosis was confirmed, Bernie O'Kennedy recalls her husband saying he always wanted to go to the Special Olympics. Now they are wondering what event their daughter might participate in. 'She's strong, she's flexible,' says Bernie O'Kennedy, musing on the possibility of gymnastics being Pippa's thing. [ 'I'm going to be with the HR gang, working with the loveliest boss ever' Opens in new window ] What's more, the little girl is due to become a big sister in just under three months' time. To the O'Kennedys' great surprise, this baby was conceived naturally and they now know it's a boy. 'I had a miscarriage before Christmas with an embryo, so then this was a complete shock again. I think I'm still in shock. A good shock.' A Harmony test this time indicated low probability of a chromosomal abnormality. To other parents who may receive a diagnosis similar to Pippa's, Bernie O'Kennedy says: 'It may not be what you want, but actually it's not the worst diagnosis you could ever get. If anything, it teaches you to be a better person, to slow down, to be more kind. You have to have a good talk with yourself. A child is going to teach you everything, particularly a child with additional needs.' Frustration over speech and language support Parents of children with Down syndrome are frustrated by a lack of access to speech and language therapy through the HSE. When they do get assistance, it is 'completely contraindicated' to their children's needs, according to DSI. Children with Down syndrome need weekly, sustained, intensive therapy, which is not provided for under the current model in the Children's Disability Network Team (CDNT), according to DSI's national speech and language therapy co-ordinator, Olive Buckeridge. The CDNT generally provides speech and language therapy (SLT) in occasional, six-week blocks. 'You're not guaranteed X number of blocks per year; you are lucky if you get a block per annum,' she says. 'The key to all learning with people with Down syndrome is repetition, because they have very poor working memories. They need to be reminded, so we need weekly intervention.' Buckeridge devised and trialled a new programme, called Keep Communicating, specifically designed for children with Down syndrome aged six months to 12 years. 'I found that it was very effective, that anybody could utilise this programme.' [ From the archive: Breda O'Brien: State failing children with Down syndrome Opens in new window ] The next step was to train SLT assistants to support the DSI's own small team of therapists, so that more children could be helped on a consistent basis. At the outset, the organisation could only provide SLT in five counties and this is now reaching 16 counties. It is estimated that there are about 2,000 children aged 0-12 living in the Republic with Down syndrome, but not all would be members of DSI. Under the DSI initiative, the therapists assess each child and design a tailored communication plan, which the assistants then deliver every week, Buckeridge explains. This can be done at home, in early years settings or in primary schools. Delivering it in school takes the pressure off parents having to take children out for appointments. Rethink Ireland (previously known as the Social Innovation Fund Ireland) provided funding for a pilot of the scheme over the past year in seven counties, in the northwest and the southwest. 'The outcomes have been really positive,' says Buckeridge. 'There has been an increase in speech clarity, the use of sign language, and the children are more confident in the use of communication.' After the initial training of two SLT assistants, there are now seven and various branches fundraise to support the programme. 'In the last six months, SLTs and SLT assistants have delivered over 8,000 interventions, which is fantastic. There's no way any CDNT could compete with us nationally.' [ 'It's a stunning setting for any cafe, but this one has extra-special credentials' Opens in new window ] The programme helps alleviate the pressure on SLTs, so that they can use time saved on more complex cases. But sustaining and expanding the programme would depend on Government funding, for which the DSI is now publicly appealing, having made representations to relevant ministers. The CDNTs could outsource to the DSI, she adds. 'They could give us the funding and we would look after the children [with Down syndrome] on their caseload.' Ultimately, the DSI would also like to extend the programme across the lifespan. 'Adults need as much therapy as children. They're the forgotten cohort.'
